


The One Where Steve has Meddlesome Friends

by mintedpotters



Series: MCUniverse [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blind Date, Disabled Character, First Meetings, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintedpotters/pseuds/mintedpotters
Summary: Sam sets Steve up on a blind date. Funny that Steve should meet his date an hour early, standing outside his dorm room, looking for Sam bloody Wilson.





	

"Thought the PoliSci essay was due _last_ week?" Sam Wilson puts his head in his hands at the reminder.

"Don't start, Cap." Sam groans. He's sitting in the library with what's left of his study group; Natasha Romanoff is leafing through a Criminology textbook, while Steve Rogers pores over _another_ History of Europe encyclopedia. "I got caught up, man. Not my fault Tony wanted to hold the team's celebration gig on a Sunday night."

"No, but you _did_ go, even though I told you it'd be a bad idea." Steve says.

"Yeah, yeah." Sam waves him off. "At least I still go to parties. When was the last time you took your nose _outta_ those books, Cap?"

"Ha ha, so funny, Birdman."

"Eagle! Dude, I told you. It's Eagle!" Sam whines.

"And I told _you,_ you can't pick your own nickname, dude, it doesn't work that way." Steve laughs. Sam has been insistent these last few weeks that he needed 'a cool codename, dude', and since then, he's been trying to make his own. 'Eagle' was his most recent - and least embarrassing - attempt.

"Ah, whatever man. You got lucky with yours." Sam says, rolling his eyes.

Steve's nickname, 'Cap', came from the simple fact that Steve was Captain of about twelve extra-curricular clubs, activities and teams. Clocking in at 6ft2 and roughly 200lbs, with frankly inhuman reflexes, there were very few sports he wasn't good at. He currently holds the school record for 'Most EC's Participated In'.

"Sure, I got 'lucky'. Or you're just ridiculously boring." Steve laughs louder, earning them an annoyed hiss from the librarian. Ms Hill has always been strict about her library. Steve suspects she used to be military. Sam thinks she's a spy. (In his defense, he thinks everyone's a spy. He thinks _Natasha_ is a spy.)

"Man, shut up." Sam huffs, but there's a smile on his face, and Steve knows there's no ill feelings. Good thing, too; he and Steve have been friends since high school, following each other around.

"How about you _both_ shut up? I'm trying to study." Natasha snaps. Her long legs are up on the desk, ankles crossed neatly. Her red hair is pinned back with a pen, and Steve's pretty sure she can kill a man with a look. When they'd met, in freshman year of college, Steve had nearly puked up on her because she'd made him so nervous. She'd just patted his head and gave him her number. They've been friends ever since.

"Sorry, Tasha." Steve says. "But I gotta go. _Someone_ set me up on another blind date." He glares at Sam as he says it, and the asshole just laughs.

"Good luck, man. You're welcome."

"Yeah well, if this one wants to suck my _toes_ like the last one did, I'll be sure to give her your number." Steve says. "See ya, Tasha. Make sure this idiot does his essay."

"Gotcha. Don't forget your condoms this time." She calls after him once he's a decent distance away to make sure her voice carries. It earns her an angry glare from Ms Hill, but Sam is losing his mind, laughing so hard he falls off his chair.

Steve shakes his head and walks out of the library, heading back to his dorm. He come to a stop at the end of his hall; standing in front of his door is a bloke with long brown hair tied back loosely, banging on the door with frankly unnecessary force.

"Can I help you?" Steve calls as he gets closer. The guy turns and light coloured eyes fall on Steve.

"I'm looking for Wilson." The guy says, gruffly. "We're meant to work on the PoliSci essay, but I think he's fallen asleep."

"Sam Wilson?" Steve asks, to clarify. "About _this_ tall, calls himself 'Eagle'?"

"Yeah. Know him?"

"He's my roommate, actually. I'm Steve, by the way."

"James." The guy says.

"Nice to meet you. Sam's in the library with Natasha." Steve tells him.

"Oh? Finally got off his ass, did he?"

"Hah, no way. I'm pretty sure Natasha's got eyes on Clint Barton, anyway."

"She's got the hots for Hawkeye? Man, he'll be thrilled. And terrified. Romanov is fuckin' scary." James says. He shudders lightly, probably recalling the bloke Tasha put in the ER after he tried to grope her at a frat party. The guy's still in physical therapy.

"Hawkeye? God, what is it with the guys here? They're all obsessed with birds." Steve shakes his head. "Bet ya, that's why Sam's putting so much effort into his nickname."

"He's trying to pick his own nickname?"

"Yeah, I know. He reckons he makes the best ones. Won't even listen to my ideas." Steve says, mockingly hurt.

"Oh? What was your idea then?"

"Falcon." Steve shrugs. James nods appreciatively.

"Not bad, not bad..."

"Got a nickname of your own?"

"Nah. My friends aren't big on nicknames, really." James says.

"You're on the hockey team, aren't you?" Steve asks, suddenly placing James' face.

"Yeah. You're on everything else." James says.

"Not anymore - gave up football, swim team, track, and lacrosse." Steve answers.

"So that still leaves you with baseball, archery and wrestling." James points out.

"I didn't do wrestling or archery. Just baseball." Steve corrects. Dimly he realises he's standing in the hall talking to a stranger.

"Aren't you just the All American Boy then." James grins cheekily.

"Well I was born on the 4th of July." Steve says.

"You're lying." James states, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Nope, look, hang on-" Steve pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and digs out his driver's license. "Here." He hands it over. James checks the birth date on it and looks up at Steve with wide, laughing eyes.

"You gotta be kidding me!" He laughs. "What next, you taste like apple pie and you bleed red, white and blue?"

"Actually, I'm allergic to apples." Steve says.

"Shit, really?"

"Hell no. Apples are like, one of the only things I'm _not_ allergic to." Steve cracks a smile.

"You're a punk." James grins.

"Whatever, jerk." Steve laughs. "Did you wanna come in and sit til Sam gets back, or...?" He asks when he sees James check his watch.

"Naw, I gotta get going. Promised my presence elsewhere tonight, unfortunately. Raincheck?"

"Sure, raincheck. I'll hold you to it." Steve says.

"Right. I'll catch you later, man." James says, reaching out with his right hand to shake Steve's.

"Later," Steve says. Once James is a few steps away, Steve turns and unlocks his dorm room door, walking in and collapsing face first on his bed. Two hours later while he fusses over what to wear on his date, he gets a text from an unknown number.

 **New text:**  
_Hey its James - Sam gave me your number, hope that's okay? forgot to ask you for it before._

Steve grins at his phone before composing a new text in reply.

 **Steve:**  
_hey that's fine, I was gonna offer my number before but I didnt know if it'd be weird or ???_

 **James:**  
_nah not weird - im lookin forward to finding out how all american you are_

 **James:**  
_shit that sounded like a come on im sorry ignore me i didnt mean it like that_

 **Steve:  
** _nah all good dont worry :)_

 **Steve:**  
_but I gotta cut this conversation short - Sam set me up on another blind date tonight and im not the kinda guy to stand someone up, yknow?_

 **James:**  
_yeah fair enough, I gotta head out too :( text me after yeah, punk?_

 **Steve:**  
_sure, jerk, text you after :)_

Steve puts his phone down with a smile, turning back to his wardrobe. He picks a red Henley and his most comfortable jeans, pairing it with a pair of plain black Converse. He straps his watch to his wrist and runs a nervous hand through his hair before scrubbing at his face. The scruff feels weird and patchy under his fingertips, but he'd made a deal with Sam at the start of the year - Steve isn't allowed to shave til his next birthday, and Sam can't take any selfies unless Steve shaves.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Fidgets with the hem of his shirt and double checks he has enough money in his wallet to afford something better than Taco Bell. (He does, but barely).

He walks out of his dorm room and locks it behind himself - Sam had texted earlier saying he'd be going to another of Tony's parties (because the idiot never learns, Steve thinks). He heads downstairs and over to the ugly old statue of the school's founder; that's where he was meant to meet his date. He wouldn't know who they were til they used the agreed phrase. And since Sam came up with it, that meant it was-

"Sergeant reporting for duty, Cap'n." A familiar voice says behind him, and Steve turns on his heel to see James grinning widely.

"At ease, Sarge." Steve responds, a smile on his own face.

"So you're my date, huh?" James grins. "Gotta say, I didn't think you'd be into fellas."

"Could say the same for you, to be honest." Steve answers easily.

"I'll take that as a compliment." James says, his smile turning into a smirk.

"Oh it definitely is." Steve laughs.

"Good to know." James says. "So, Taco Bell?"

"Sounds good to me." Steve says.

Their conversation holds up all the way to the nearest Taco Bell, and after getting their food, their mouths were too full to speak much.

"So, what _are_ you allergic to?" James asks at one point. He and Steve are in a park, lounging on the grass. Steve wishes he'd brought his sketchbook.

"How much time do you have." Steve answers jokingly.

"Long list, huh?"

"Oh yeah. My medical file is like, 150 pages long or something equally ridiculous." Steve grins.

"I call bullshit on that. There's no way-"

"Asthma, scoliosis, allergies, a list of chronic illnesses as long as your leg... not to mention I was born premature and underdeveloped... yeah. It's a big file." Steve says. There's no bitterness in his tone though; he's gotten used to having to explain himself to people.

"Damn. So how'd that mix with the whole Sporting God thing you got going on now?" James asks.

"Lots of physical training, an experimental treatment plan, and a _really_ late growth spurt." Steve grins.

"You're lying...?"

"Yeah. There wasn't any physical training." Steve says, completely deadpan. James' mouth opens and Steve manages to hold onto his serious expression for about another three seconds before bursting out laughing. "I'm kidding - the treatment thing wasn't really an experiment. It was created in the 30's, and they used it on some guy who was just like me, y'know, always real sick, thin as a post... Anyway, this doctor made this serum to boost the kid's immune system, the muscle mass, all that stuff. It worked, but the kid ended up getting mugged a few weeks after and he died."

"Shit... Poor kid." James says, rubbing his clean hand over his hair, effectively pulling his hair out of the loose bun it'd been in.

"Yeah, but the doctor - his name was Erskine - gave the serum formula to the local hospitals, and they shared it round, and voila, here I am." Steve slapped his hand off his thigh. "My mom heard about it, and she signed me up."

"Your mom's a good woman then."

"The best." Steve sighs happily. Usually he's not so eager to come off as a Momma's Boy (as Tasha so helpfully called him), but he's sure that Sarah Rogers is a real life angel come to Earth. Single mom, working four jobs to afford the rent and Steve's constant medication, taking night classes to be able to help Steve with his homework.

"She's real important to you, ain't she?" James smiles. Steve nods.

"Most important person in my life, her and my Aunt Peggy." Steve says. "Well... she's not actually my aunt."

"Oh?"

"She's a WW2 vet, but she's got Alzheimer's, so she doesn't actually know who I am. But I was passing her room at the retirement home, she was telling a nurse about her fella, and she saw me and thought I was him. So I kinda just kept going back." Steve says, blushing slightly. Peggy Carter had a lot of really interesting stories, not just from the war time either; she'd had a very full and exciting life afterwards, travelling to far off places and doing things Steve would _love_ to try, like skydiving and horse racing.

"Damn, you really are just a huge marshmallow, aren't you? I bet you even help little old ladies cross the streets." Steve blushed even harder, which made James laugh. "Oh man, you _do!_ Damn, little ole All American Gentleman over here. Wait! I just thought of a new nickname for you!"

"Oh god..."

"Captain America!" James cackled, rolling onto his back with the force of his laughter. Steve couldn't help but grin at him, though he did affect a huge groan at the nickname that made James laugh even harder. So hard, in fact, that he _snorted_. Honest to God, _snorted._ That set Steve off in his own fit of laughter, and soon enough, they were getting odd looks from the other people left in the park. Eventually, they calmed down, laying on their backs and watching the few clouds move in the Brooklyn evening sky.

"I'd say this is a successful date." James declares, grinning over to Steve, who returned the smile easily.

"Agreed. So much better than my last date, too."

"Oh? What'd your last date do?"

"Asked to suck my toes."

"No fuckin' way."

"Yeah, dude, you think I'd joke about something like that?"

"When did they ask though? Catch you with your pants down, or...?"

"In the middle of dinner. At Salvatore's." Steve groans at the memory. James cackles loudly again.

"No goddamn _way,_ Stevie! Damn." James laughs.

"First _Captain America,_ now _Stevie?_ C'mon man, you gotta give me nickname fodder for you." Steve groans.

"Alright, alright... My full name is James Buchanan Barnes."

"History buff parents?"

"Yeah."

"Damn, that's just sad... alright gimme a few minutes, and I'll have somethin'." Steve grins.

They wile away another hour, talking about everything - including James' prosthetic arm. Steve hadn't even noticed it until James had shed his jacket.

"Car crash a couple years back. The nerves in my arm were a lost cause, and the bones were practically pulverised; they took it just above the elbow and gave me this beauty." James says, lifting his arm and moving his fingers, curling them into a neat silver fist. "They managed to hook it into me so it responds like a real arm. I dunno, it's real techy, _but_ I got to spend three months at Stark Labs, so I count it as a win."

"Stark Labs? As in _Tony Stark?"_ Steve gapes, because that kid was a whiz if ever he'd seen one.

"Yeah," James grins widely, and Steve thinks its rather a nice smile... "Kid's a damn genius."

"Don't I know it. His father was part of the team that developed Erskine's serum, you know." Steve says.

"No way."

"Yeah, man. Peggy talks about him a lot. Or at least, she said they _had fondue_ a lot. Read into it what you will." Steve shrugs.

"Damn, now I want fondue." James groans.

"Yeah, okay Buckaroo."

"Buckaroo, really? That's the best you got?"

"I was tossing up between that and Jemima, so..."

"Oh yeah, no, Buckaroo's _obviously_ the better choice." James says sarcastically. "Please, dazzle me with the dozens of other nicknames you've managed to create for me. I'm shivering with anticipation."

"Alright, jerk, no need to get all sentimental on me." Steve laughs, tossing a handful of grass at James' face.

"Rude, Goldilocks." James grins now.

"God, really, we're picking on my hair now, too?" Steve groans. "Cut me a break, Buck."

"Oh god, Buckaroo is really gonna stick, ain't it?" James commiserates loudly, flopping dramatically onto his back, throwing his prosthetic hand over his eyes like a Victorian dame with the vapors.

"Could've been worse." Steve says mildly. "Could've been _Bucking Bronco."_

James almost pisses himself laughing and it's the best date either of them have ever been on.


End file.
